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While still in the early stages of a new relationship, I had an episode of diarrhea that can only be described as catastrophic.

During the first month of our relationship Boyfriend and I had decided to go away on our first trip together. However, I did not want to have a repeat of the cruise incident in which I had given myself laxative-induced diarrhea with my then boyfriend sitting a foot from the door.

So, I decided that I would not poop during the trip. Good plan!

After 5 blissful days spent lounging around Key West, I was sure of two things:

(1) I was in love

(2) I really, really needed to poop

In a fit of romanticism, Boyfriend decided to extend our love-filled vacation by taking me out to breakfast before dropping me off at home. I had been packing away greasy meals and fruity cocktails for nearly a week – what was 1 more meal?

After breakfast my stomach began to ache. “I must’ve eaten too fast”, I thought to myself.

As we walked to the car, my stomach growled loud enough for Boyfriend to ask if I was ok. “Ya”, I answered, “My tummy is just a little upset. {Geisha giggle}

When we got in the car, I had broken out into a cold sweat. I began mentally calculating the amount of time it would take to get to my apartment versus the intensity of the cramps in my gut.

I can do this… I can do this… I CAN’T DO THIS!

Me: “Um, Boyfriend? I need you to pull into a bathroom”, {surprising myself with the calmness in my voice given the urgency of the situation.}

Boyfriend: “Um, where do you want me to stop? Let me think, hm… There’s a Target up the road, but I think the movie theater might have nicer bathrooms. Or would you prefer to go back to my pla –“

Me: “Pull over, NOW!”

Boyfriend: {Makes a sharp right turn going the wrong way down a one-way street and pulls into a Denny’s parking lot}

Have you ever run full gallop into a Denny’s restaurant pushing the hostess out of the way while muttering prayers that you not shit your pants in public?

I have.

After 35 shameful minutes I awkwardly walked back out into the parking lot, searching for Boyfriend. When at first I didn’t see the car, I had assumed he left me for a woman who didn’t need to have emergency poops in a Denny’s restaurant filled with brunching retirees. I eventually spotted him parked under a tree. I slowly climbed into his SUV. He rolled all the windows down. {I begin to pray a me-sized sinkhole will open up and swallow me} The rest of the ride home was spent in silence.

Months later, Boyfriend still laughs about the incident.

Boyfriend: “What if you had actually crapped your pants in my car?”

Me: “I would’ve immediately dumped you, unable to live with the shame.”

Boyfriend: “Seriously? How does my girlfriend crap her pants in MY car and then I’M the one who gets dumped?”

Me: “Luckily, that didn’t happen, so we can keep dating. Looooove youuuuu”